


You Were Never Supposed To Leave

by Mirimage



Series: Dream SMP oneshots [5]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), For a second, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Let me know if I missed any tags!, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Toby Smith | Tubbo, Suicidal Thoughts, Toby Smith | Tubbo Misses TommyInnit, bc he isn't actually dead, honestly this is way sadder than i intended it to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:55:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28170516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirimage/pseuds/Mirimage
Summary: Or: three ways Tubbo found out that his best friend was alive.(and two ways he didn't.)
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Dream SMP oneshots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1963615
Comments: 3
Kudos: 192





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow a new fic already, look at me go. Literally every part of this has wildly different vibes I'm so sorry for yanking you around like this. We pretend we do not see Techno's stream, FDAU is still going strong in my fics. 
> 
> Re: my last fic, I'm super bad at replying to comments bc I don't know how to take compliments, but I see you and I promise I appreciate it so much. <3

_(One: Tommy crashes his own funeral.)_

The sun was setting.

Tubbo looked out over the server, at the view he had always shared with Tommy.

The view that he’d never share again, because Tommy was dead.

Tubbo had convinced Dream to let them have the funeral outside the borders of L’Manburg, underneath their tree. It was Tommy’s favourite spot, outside of his house, and it was only fitting that they buried him there.

Well, ‘buried.’

There wasn’t a body. Tubbo couldn’t find any remainder of Tommy around the debris of Logstedshire. Instead, a small chest containing the discs—Tommy’s discs—stood on a pedestal in front of him.

The majority of the server was there, with the notable absence of Dream. Quackity and Fundy and Karl, all clustered together. Niki, quietly weeping next to her brother Ranboo, who looked slightly lost. Bad, with tears in his eyes and clutching Skeppy’s hand. Eret, near the back, crown held in both hands and shaded eyes downcast. Even George and Sapnap, looking uncharacteristically solemn.

None of Tommy’s family had shown up.

And Tubbo couldn’t really blame them, if he was being completely honest with himself.

Wilbur was dead, and the shell that remained didn’t really know how to deal with sadness. When Tubbo had hesitantly brought up the funeral, he had cocked his head and promised to take care of the invitations, wandering off and muttering about a special guest. He wasn’t even sure he had understood that his brother was dead. The invitations had gone out regardless, but Wilbur hadn't yet appeared himself. 

Technoblade was still banned from L’Manburg—on his own orders—and any attempt at contacting him had failed. Calls to his communicator rang on for minutes before abruptly cutting out, and they hadn’t a hope of finding his house in the snowy tundra without a compass.

Philza had disappeared shortly after the failed execution attempt. Tubbo suspected he was with Technoblade, and despite the dull sting of betrayal he couldn’t bring himself to hunt them down. Not while Techno was the only son Phil had left.

Tubbo rested a hand on the tree as his head spun. He hadn’t really slept since he had passed out in Logstedshire, looking up at the spire of dirt and cobble.

He should say something. He was the only one left who really knew Tommy after all, and exiled or not he was still his best friend. He deserved a proper memorial.

He stepped forwards, the crowd quieting. His mouth was dry and words died in his throat. What could he possibly say about Tommy, the person who had always been there for him until he couldn’t, the person who he had exiled and shunned and driven to suicide?

"Thank you for being here," Tubbo’s tongue was numb as he clumsily tried to piece together a coherent speech. “I- um, Tommy was-“

“Tubbo!” Wilbur’s voice, far too happy for the current situation, cut through his stumbling words. The ghost had appeared when no one was looking, hands clasped and eyes wide.

“Ghostbur, where have you been?” Tubbo said, suddenly desperately grateful for the distraction. “This is important, you should be here for this.”

“You said this was for Tommy.” Wilbur said, a strange note in his voice. Tubbo wondered with a tired kind of frustration if he had finally realised what was going on, what he was interrupting.

“So, look!” He gestured behind him, and the crowd turned obligingly. There was nothing there except for the bare planks of the Prime Path and a solitary chicken.

“Ghostbur, I-”

There was the familiar shimmer in the air of an invisibility potion running out, and a figure appeared. Tubbo’s breath caught in his throat, and he once again reached for the tree as his knees buckled.

The figure’s clothes were worn but clean, shirt messily patched with string and scraps of blue fabric and a coat that Tubbo distantly recognised as the one Wilbur wore in Pogtopia. A green bandanna was tied securely around his wrist, and a compass hung from his neck.

Tommy smiled sheepishly, raising a hand to mess with his hair.

“Hey guys. Miss me?”

* * *

_(Two: Tubbo finds one of Tommy’s cobblestone towers.)_

It had been three days since Tubbo had stumbled back from the wreckage of Logstedshire, emerging from the portal dusty and red eyed. He waved off his cabinet’s concern, ignoring the looks they gave each other when they thought he wasn’t looking. He didn’t deserve their concern, not when Tommy was dead and it was his fault.

L’Manburg echoed with reminders, building up in his mind with every corner he turned and every place he looked. 

_(There was the bridge Tommy had once dared him to jump off, and that was_ _the messy shack Tommy had built himself_ _, and the nook over there still carried an imprint of Tommy’s voice and his laugh and his bold_ _presence_ _.)_

The memories clamoured for attention, screaming louder and louder until Tubbo’s hands were fisted in his hair and the pain drowned them out.

He had snuck out during the night, unable to stand the constant noise in his head and ache in his chest.

Tubbo didn’t really know where he was going until he stumbled into the snowy plains. Technoblade may be an enemy of L’Manburg, but after the botched execution the least he could do was inform him of his second brother’s death.

And if Techno wanted to put his axe through his skull? Well, maybe that would be a good thing.

As he crested a hill, the snow glittered with a soft light.Technoblade’s cabin stood out amongst the endless white, illuminated with a welcoming glow, and just in front of it stood an ugly cobblestone tower.

Tubbo stopped dead.

Technoblade built sturdy little houses and expansive farms and elaborate bunkers behind hidden doors. Techno did not build ugly towers out of cobble.

But Tommy did.

Tubbo didn’t register that he had sunk to his knees until he felt the wet chill seeping through his suit pants.

If he focused hard enough, he imagined he could see shapes flitting behind the shuttered windows, hear the faint shriek of Tommy’s distinctive laugh on the wind.

Tommy was alive, and he was here. Hiding out in the snow with Technoblade, the enemy. The person Tubbo had just attempted to have killed. His brother.

_(Tommy had used to say that Tubbo was as good as his brother, part of his family. But that was before Tubbo had exiled him. Before he had tried to kill his actual brother. And now, Tommy clearly didn’t want him anymore.)_

_(Maybe Tubbo deserved it.)_

He could feel tears on his cheeks, the icy wind freezing them against his skin. He couldn’t bring himself to care. In his desperation, Tommy had run to Technoblade, instead of Tubbo. The ache in his heart was suddenly so much worse.

But Tommy was alive. And for now, that was enough.

* * *

_(Three: Tommy returns to L’Manburg as a part of the Antarctic Empire.)_

L’Manburg had been quiet since Tommy’s death. No one had realised how his presence had kept the place alive until the exile, and once news of his death had got around the mood dropped even further.

Philza had disappeared, and Technoblade hasn’t been seen for weeks. Tubbo didn’t have the energy to seek them out. He was mourning, and he was sure they were too. The bounty for Techno's head had mostly been forgotten these days anyway.

_(No one wanted to kill a man grieving for both his younger brothers. No one wanted to kill Phil’s only remaining child.)_

Tubbo was slumped over in his chair, listlessly prodding at a stack of papers, when Quackity burst into his office. He was wild eyed and panting, and visibly afraid.

“Mr. President, you’ve gotta come quick, it’s-” He faltered with an audible gulp, hands shaking as he ran then through his hair. “It’s someone you’ll want to talk to.”

Tubbo rose to his feet, the urgency in Quackity’s voice spurring him to action. As they hurried down the darkened halls, he could hear a gruff voice that sent chills down his spine.

_Technoblade._

“We’ll only speak to the President.”

Tubbo pushed through the door to see Fundy anxiously wringing his hands, the fox turning to him with relief clear in his eyes.

He centred his stance, his two cabinet members settling just behind his shoulders. He was glad for the wordless support as he aimed a level gaze at their visitors.

Technoblade and Philza stood in the halls of his White House. They wore matching furred cloaks, fastened with emeralds at their throats. Technoblade’s crown glinted in the lantern light, and Philza’s customary bucket hat was ringed with delicate spikes of silver.

They were armed for war. Shields painted with a blue and white banner brought back distant memories of a flag flying in icy wind, of a map covered in blue, and whispers of an empire too powerful to be stopped. Netherite flashed from underneath their cloaks, swords glowing with enchantment were fastened to their waists, and crossbows were slung over their backs. This wasn’t just Technoblade and Philza. This was the Blood God and the Angel of Death.

The presence of two figures of legend was overwhelming, drawing all attention in the room, and it left a slight form shifting behind the two warriors unnoticed.

It took him a moment to catch, but when he did the only sound he could make was a breathless gasp.

It was Tommy.

Here within Tubbo’s reach, and _alive._

Unthinkingly, he made to lunge forwards and Quackity grabbed his arm to haul him back. He turned to snap at his Vice—it was _Tommy_ — but paused as he urgently gestured in Tommy’s general direction. He turned back to give him a more critical look, trying to ignore the repressed emotions blooming within.

Tommy was dressed in pale blues and whites, a single emerald winking from a chain around his neck. The same uniform worn by Technoblade and Philza, figures standing with clear hostile intent.

“Tommy?”

But his best friend avoided his gaze, edging behind the protective bulk of Technoblade.

Tubbo stiffened, dread spiking in his chest.

“We’re just here to give you a formal notice.” Technoblade rumbled, his words a dark threat of their own.

“We represent the Antarctic Empire,” Philza said, and his usually warm voice carried the howl of the winter wind and the bone-deep sting of ice. “We are here to declare war against Dream, and if you ally yourself with him,” his hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and Tubbo understood. This wasn’t a threat.

“We’ll have to destroy you too.”

It was a promise.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for this chapter:  
> implied suicide, major character death

_(+One: Tubbo finds a new ghost.)_

Ghosts were still a topic of mystery amongst the residents of Dream’s SMP.

So far, there had only been two deaths—Wilbur and Schlatt—and only one had returned as a ghost.

They didn’t know much, but from Ghostbur they had gathered that memories were affected, and their form retained some aspect of their death.

For Wilbur, it was the ragged hole in his sweater, and the unsettling way a sword would occasionally appear through his chest. It was his glossy blue-black tears, and the way bad memories faded from his mind like water slipping through cupped hands.

Wilbur was the only ghost on the server.

Or so they thought.

The ghost in front of him was dressed in a familiar red and white t-shirt, singed and still smouldering in spots. A bright trail of lava dripped from bare feet hovering just above the earth, and tear tracks were burnt dark into his cheeks.

Tubbo thought of the twisting tower of dirt outside of Logstedshire. A burst of hysteria had him suddenly glad Tommy had died in lava.

_(What would a ghost who died to fall damage look like?)_

“Are you my Tubbo?” The ghost asked quietly, in a voice so unlike Tommy that he nearly screamed at the pure _wrongness_ of it.

He held out a shaking hand, clutching a half melted glint of metal. The twisted needle pointed directly at his chest.

“This points to my Tubbo,” he said. “I don’t remember anything, only that I missed him.”

And that _hurt,_ hurt like swords in the Final Control Room and fireworks at the Festival and the absence of someone he thought would always be there.

“Yeah,” He stifled a sob, the silence unbroken for far too long. “I’m your Tubbo.”

“You’re my Tubbo.” He echoed, a faint smile on his face. “Who am I then?”

“You’re my Tommy.” Tubbo said, soft and broken.

“You’re my best friend.”

* * *

_(+Two: Tubbo follows his best friend.)_

When Tubbo woke, it was raining. Icy droplets lashed against his face, and sand stuck to his skin as he pushed himself upright. He winced at the ache in his head.

Where was he? He didn’t recognise this landscape, this sparse and desolate area.

_(Except for the craters. Tubbo would recognise TNT scarred land anywhere.)_

This wasn’t L’Manburg though, those craters were long covered up, or slowly filling with water beneath the stilted houses. Nor was it anywhere he recognised from the Dream SMP, or the Badlands, with earth pocked from rogue creeper explosions. No, this was somewhere else.

Lightning blazed, and for a second a shadow fell over his form, the shadow of a pillar reaching into the heavens. He slowly looked up, and the flash of realisation as he stared into the sky was horribly familiar.

Tubbo remembered where this was now.

He remembered the aftermath of the execution, the shaky decision to go and visit Tommy after weeks of exile.

He remembered the broken portal, the first stirrings of dread as he emerged from the purple mist to see that shattered frame.

He remembered finding the remains of Logstedshire, remembered stumbling around in horror at the too-familiar sight of destruction.

_(Why did it always have to be explosions?)_

He remembered staring up at that awful tower, and the slow realisation it brought.

Why there had been no calls of greeting, why the destroyed camp had shown no signs of repair.

Why there was no Tommy.

Tubbo wasn’t quite sure what he was doing as he stumbled towards the base of the tower, leaning against it with a numb kind of exhaustion. He tried to ignore the agony slowly building within him, howling thoughts he didn’t want to acknowledge.

_Tommy is gone._

_This is your fault._

_Your best friend is dead._

_You killed Tommy._

And Tubbo didn’t know what to do anymore.

With mindless hands he built a gently sloping spiral around the pillar, leading up and up and up.

Finally, Tubbo stood at the top, swaying slightly against the wind.

He whispered apologies into the biting air, knowing that no one would ever hear them. He said them anyways. To Phil and Wilbur and Techno, to Quackity and Fundy and Karl, to Niki and Ranboo. To Tommy.

Tubbo took a final deep, shuddering breath.

He turned his face to the sky.

And let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah sorry I meant to post this ages ago! I hope you enjoy it anyways, thanku for reading as always. Let me know if I should make this a proper 5+1 and add an actually happy chapter, I was thinking about it. <3

**Author's Note:**

> On twitter as @m1r1mage, I promise I'm friendly if you wanna come talk :)


End file.
